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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379816">A Visitor To Nilfgaard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands38/pseuds/vands38'>vands38</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aretuza (The Witcher), Dark Magic, Desk Sex, Dominance, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash February, Flaws Out Claws Out, Frenemies, Fringilla-centric, Magic, Nilfgaard, POV Fringilla, Power Struggle, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:55:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands38/pseuds/vands38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fringilla Vigo has been stationed at Nilfgaard for quite some time when Yennefer of Vengerburg at last decides to stop by.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fringilla Vigo/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Visitor To Nilfgaard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for the prompt "Nilfgaard" which was day 12 on <a href="https://vands38.tumblr.com/post/641935850792517632">this femslash feb prompt list</a>. I'm not sure if I'll have time to write another f/f ficlet this month but I am hoping to sign up for <a href="https://beyondthecontinent.tumblr.com/post/642422504789557248/we-are-excited-to-invite-everyone-to-join-the">beyond the continent</a> which is a reverse big bang to highlight characters of colour and female characters in the Witcher - so please do check that out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So…” Yennefer drawls, looking out of the diamond-paned window of Fringilla’s tower onto lands below. “This is your <em>kingdom</em>.”</p><p>Fringilla snarls at Yennefer’s obvious disdain. How dare she invite herself into Nilfgaard – into Fringilla’s <em>space</em> – only to spit on her in disgust. “The kingdom that you threw away,” Fringilla retorts with a tone just as cutting, before settling herself into the office chair to better witness Yennefer’s inevitable dramatics. </p><p>Several years may have passed since their assignments but Fringilla has not forgiven Yennefer for what she did. Yennefer didn’t even <em>want</em> Aedirn, not really, she just didn’t want <em>Nilfgaard</em>. And who would? Fringilla certainly didn’t see the benefit of this kingdom at first. Weak nobles and shifting politics and sandy dunes. Until, she realised – weak nobles could be manipulated, shifting politics could be shifted to her advantage, and even the sandy dunes could be tamed. Everything fell into place after that. Fringilla gains power day after day, and what is Yennefer doing? Being a good little court mage. Protecting a princess. <em>Bored</em>.</p><p>Yennefer shakes her head and tilts her head back towards the window. “I threw Nilfgaard away like the garbage it was, Fringilla. I thought my King was a feeble excuse for a man but I could knock yours over with nought but a feather.”</p><p>Fringilla smirks and reaches for the decanter on the desk to pour two glasses of red wine. “Weak men are easy men,” she advises, pushing a glass across the desk towards Yennefer. They could bicker like this for days, but someone has to take the high road and fuck knows it won’t be Yennefer. </p><p>Yennefer steps away from the window with notable scepticism, but accepts the drink nonetheless, sliding into the opposite chair with the ease and grace of a haughty feline. “Your office isn’t half bad,” she observes, glancing at their surroundings. “I heard they put Sabrina in a basement.”</p><p>Fringilla snorts a laugh and swirls the wine around the glass as she reclines in her chair. Sabrina – always the fastidious one – wouldn’t enjoy the smell of mildew and rat droppings in the lightest.  </p><p>Fringilla tilts her head to admire the stone tower encasing them – the laden bookcases, the large writing desk between them littered with letters and mage’s tools, and, of course, the plush red velvet chairs where they recline. It’s pleasant enough. There is always room for improvement though.</p><p>“The King tried to station me in the barracks at first,” Fringilla says, with a contemplative swig of wine. “Horrendous place. Damp. Loud. Stank of rotting fish. But soon, I noticed that the only people coming in and out of this tower were drunk thieves, and the next time I saw one, I demanded that he take all of the kegs stashed at the base, and inform the King that the tower was now in my possession.”</p><p>Yennfer snorts. “And he took that well?”</p><p>“Surprisingly well. The King has long since forgotten the use of a tower such as this.”</p><p>“And you didn’t seek to enlighten him,” Yennefer infers with an amused tilt of her eyebrow.</p><p>“Of course not. Nilfgaard will go to war when I want them to, and not a moment sooner. What matters is that I have a private five-floor suite far away from the stench of the barracks.”</p><p>Yennefer laughs, bold and bright and just as beautiful as ever. Fringilla finds herself enchanted by the sight until the painful stabbing reminder of who they once were echoes solemnly in this glorified cell. </p><p>Fringilla clears her throat and turns her head to the window where Yennefer had stood not long ago. “Why are you here, Yennefer?”</p><p>Yennefer huffs a dry laugh and places her near-empty glass back onto the table. “Would you believe me if I said I was here to apologise?”</p><p>Fringilla returns her gaze to her companion and fixes her with a steady glare. “No,” she states. “I would not.”</p><p>Yennefer’s lips twitch in amusement as if she had predicted Fringilla’s response. Yennefer’s constant childish behaviour irritates Fringilla to no end but she ought not be surprised by it; too many days – and nights – at Aretuza were filled with such tomfoolery. </p><p>Yennefer picks up her glass only to drain it and return it once more to the table. Then, she fixes Fringilla with a stare just as certain. “In that case, I suppose I’m here to broker peace.”</p><p>“Peace?” Fringilla can’t help but exclaim with visible scepticism. “You want <em>forgiveness</em> for your <em>betrayal</em>?”</p><p>Yennefer presses her tongue against her lips and her eyes dance with amusement. Fringilla already wants to wipe the smug expression off her face even before she teases, “Little bit dramatic there, Gilli, don’t you think?”</p><p>Fringilla narrows her eyes, silently fuming at Yennefer for her cheek – and, worse still, that she let herself get roped into Yennefer’s childish games. She folds her arms and stares back until the amusement disappears from her companion’s eyes. “You took an opportunity away from me.”</p><p>“I said I’m ‘sorry’ –”</p><p>“No, you didn’t.”</p><p>“Well, I <em>meant</em> to say I’m sorry. Same thing. It was years ago, Gilli, just –”</p><p>“Stop calling me that,” Fringilla snaps. “That’s not my name.”</p><p>Yennefer’s expression crumples before her. The sight cracks Fringilla’s already broken heart. They had been friends – more than friends – in the confinement of Aretuza but when their futures had hung in the balance, Yennefer had strided into that ballroom and with one decisive action, claimed Fringilla’s future for her own, and discarded whatever affection had lain between them. And now, years later, Yennefer thinks she can just stride into Fringilla’s hard-earned life to <em>apologise</em>? Fuck that shit.</p><p>Fringilla stands up so suddenly that the chair screeches and the half-filled wine glass wobbles preemptively on the desk. Even Yennefer seems jarred by the movement as she blinks up at her in surprise. </p><p>“Get out,” Fringilla orders.</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t move. She stands. She glares. But her feet do not turn towards the exit. “I came to talk to you, Fringilla –”</p><p>“And I don’t want to hear it. <em>Get</em>. <em>Out</em>.”</p><p>Yennefer’s mouth twists in displeasure and her eyes dart towards the door as if she’s considering it before she squares her shoulders and returns her fierce gaze to Fringilla. “I know what you must think of me,” she sneers. “You think me cowardly, and villainous, and manipulative. You think me cold and calculating when it is <em>you</em> that hoards these qualities above all else. You paint me as the villain so you can think yourself the hero. But we’re cut from the same stone, Fringilla. And if you were in my position that day in Aretuza, Gilli, you would have made the exact same choice that I did.”</p><p>Fringilla folds her arms and scowls because she <em>hates</em> that Yennefer’s right. Of course she would have done the same fucking thing. If she had seen her future slipping away, she would have grabbed at it… whatever the cost. </p><p>Yennefer sighs and relaxes her posture, perhaps sensing that she’s made her point. “We both want the same thing, Gilli.”</p><p>“Power?” Fringilla scoffs. “I have that. More than you would believe.”</p><p>“Companionship,” Yennefer whispers, and Fringilla’s eyes snap to hers. “You’re as lonely in this world of men as I am.”</p><p>Fringilla opens her mouth but no retort comes to her. She <em>is</em> lonely. She speaks to kings, and soldiers, and tradesmen every day. But the friendship she found at Aretuza is nowhere to be found amongst Nilfgaard’s riches.</p><p>“Forgive me,” Yennfer pleads, with an outstretched hand. “And you can have that again. More than that, if you so desire.”</p><p>Fringilla raises her eyes to Yennefer’s, cautious and sceptical, but when she reaches those purple irises, there is nothing in them but open affection. </p><p>Fringilla’s heart starts racing, her palms turn slick, her mouth turns dry. She thought their friendship was irreparable and yet there is a very tangible olive branch being extended before her. Fringilla knows that if she doesn’t take it now, it will never be offered again. </p><p>She reaches across the table to clasp Yennefer’s arm in hers, like the brothers in arms that they protect. But then, as Fringilla withdraws, Yennefer’s fingertips drag along the inside of her wrist – electric and intimate – and desire grips her in a way it has not done in so long. </p><p>Yennefer’s eyes lock onto hers. Their fingertips are still brushing, both reluctant to let go. Fringilla can feel her heart pound and pound, almost as loud as her thoughts that scream<em> kiss her, kiss her,</em> so clearly that Yennefer must be able to hear. </p><p>Yennefer’s lips tick up into a mischievous smile, and then Yennefer darts forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a searing hot kiss as another hand casts the table between them into oblivion. </p><p>Fringilla stumbles closer, stepping over the imagined line of the vanished table until she can grab Yennefer and kiss her like they haven’t done in <em>years</em>. It’s different now. Their bodies have changed with age and magical transformation and their motions are smoother with gained experience. They are not clumsy teenagers anymore, but their kiss is no less enthusiastic for it. They are grappling even now – for power, for control – until Fringilla pulls her to the side and casts the desk back into existence only so they can fuck against its side. </p><p>“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Yennefer gasps in awe as the same letters that were there before are pushed aside onto the floor. “How did you know where to look?”</p><p><em>Because nothing is lost forever,</em> she remembers Tissaia saying, <em>It is merely displaced. </em></p><p>Fringilla grins, and puts her hands behind her back while she heals the bleeding thumb that powered the spell. Yennefer doesn’t need to know everything. “I’m a better sorceress than you,” she says. “There are no limits in Nilfgaard.”</p><p>Yennefer frowns, and seems on the verge of asking further questions until Fringilla lures her into another kiss. Yennefer groans into the kiss and allows herself to be pushed back onto the desk before she replies, mumbled against Fringilla’s lips. “No limits? Well, I certainly hope that’s true for your table.”</p><p>Fringilla smirks and falls to her knees, pushing aside Yennefer’s copious skirts to find the bounty beneath. And then, when the desk gives an ominous creak under Yennefer’s shifting weight, spares a hand to cast some supports into existence. </p><p>Yennfer laughs, breathless and pleasure-filled above her, and gasps, “If you’re after wood, I’ve got just the thing.”</p><p>Fringilla is not at all surprised to find a smirk on her face and phallus in her hand when she rises. Typical Yennefer. She was always getting in trouble for her sexual exploits at Aretuza and it’s rather amusing to see it gain some use in adulthood. </p><p>Yennefer waves the phallus between them, “Now, if you promise not to draw a correlation between perceived power and dynamics in the bedroom – like so many men are prone to do – will you fuck me with this wonderfully large phallus?” </p><p>Fringilla smirks, and doesn’t agree either way to Yennefer’s proclamation, as she fucks her senseless atop the wooden desk.</p><p>It’s only afterwards, when they’re lying on the desk side-by-side, staring at the cobwebbed ceiling, that Yennefer seems to notice her omission. “You didn’t agree not to make a correlation.” </p><p>“Didn’t seem necessary.”</p><p>Yennefer laughs – and fuck, if Fringilla doesn’t still savour the sound. “Are you really so power hungry that you need to believe – ?”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>“Right. So you’re saying that if I offered to top –”</p><p>“I thought you said it didn’t mean anything.”</p><p>“It shouldn’t! But you’re so insecure about –”</p><p>“<em>Yeni</em>,” Fringilla cuts across, running a hand over her face. She remembers now: even a good fuck comes with an argument when you’re sleeping with Yennefer of Fucking Vengerberg. “Do we have to do this now?”</p><p>Yennefer sighs, as if she’s put out, and then leaves a kiss – that may or may not be patronising – on her cheek. “Of course not, Gilli. We can argue about your need for dominance another time. After round two perhaps.”</p><p>Fringilla huffs a laugh, wondering if round two is only a ploy to even the playing field. She finds that she’s not as irritated by the childish game as she ought to be, but perhaps that’s just the sentimentality of post-coital bliss talking. </p><p>She tilts her head to the size, gazing into those purple eyes that have haunted her dreams for so long, and rests her forehead against that of her old friend. “<em>Yennefer</em>,” she breathes, and for the first time since arriving in Nilfgaard, Fringilla doesn’t fall asleep alone. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://vands38.tumblr.com/">you can find me on tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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